


Tips

by luvkurai



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Cannibalism, Hannibal stop staring at Will's butt, I wrote this in 15 minutes shhhh, M/M, restaurant AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-06
Updated: 2013-07-06
Packaged: 2017-12-17 22:00:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/872416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luvkurai/pseuds/luvkurai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hannibal must deal with a few unhappy customers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tips

**Author's Note:**

> I'm working as a server right now. This is spurred by how angry people that don't tip make me. I'm not saying they deserve to be eaten, but theydeservetobeeaten. (So sorry)

The scent of caramelized onions and balsamic vinegar fills his nose. The sound of searing loin and chinking silverware fills his ears. And his eyes are pleasantly distracted by the backside of his favorite waiter.

Will Graham bends down to pick up a checkbook and clear the remaining dishes on a table. He says something—Hannibal doesn’t hear—to the couple still sitting there, before straightening up. He diverts his eyes before Will can turn around and catch him, looking back to the paperwork he’s been studying at the front desk.

Dr. Hannibal Lecter attended medical school and worked in the emergency room for ten years before deciding he had had enough. He considered going into psychiatry, another passion of his, but in the end he turned to cooking. With his skills already extremely developed it was easy to glide through cooking school. Then, with his funds established from being a doctor, he purchased a building in the older part of the city.

As chef and owner of the Wendigo Bistro, arguably Baltimore’s best restaurant, he has certain responsibilities. Hiring wait staff is one of them. When Will Graham submitted his application, he was hired simply on the basis of his experience in other fine dining establishment. Hannibal had not expected little of him, nor did he expect a lot.

Therefore, it was a pleasant surprise when William turned out to be the best server hired, taking care of twice as many tables as any other server without breaking a sweat. He often seems to have a sixth sense about him, in which he recognizes exactly what a guest needs before they order it. He has no problem memorizing Hannibal’s ever-changing menu, even keeping track of which dishes seem to be the favorites.

The nearly inaudible sigh that escapes the waiter, as he strides past, fails to escape him. Without looking up, he asks, “What is wrong?”

Will jerks a little, taking a step back to where Hannibal is standing. “Oh, it’s nothing.”

Hannibal does not allow his gaze to waver until Will speaks up, “That—that table just didn’t tip me anything. It’s not a big deal, I just…”

As he trails off, he stands awkwardly in the same position, eyes darting all over the room. Guilt at complaining to his boss seems to be overwhelming him. He excuses himself a bit awkwardly, retreating to the kitchen with his stack of dirty dishes.

 _Rude_ , Hannibal thinks, watching the couple, a man and a woman, stand and approach the front desk.

 _“_ Are you the manager?” He asks, without preamble.

 _“_ The owner,” Hannibal allows, unsure where this is going.

His admission makes the man stand up straighter, become angry and red-faced.

“This was worst meal I’ve had in months. My wife agrees. The food was terrible, the service was _worse._ I have no clue how you are staying in business with this sort of operation.”

It is obvious where this is going. Hannibal watched the couple’s food preparation and saw Will serving them intermittently. He knows there was nothing wrong with any part of their visit. This is a desperate attempt at getting a free meal.

“I sincerely apologize, sir,” Hannibal says with a bow of his head. Then, “May I ask for your business card so I may send you a refund?”

He nods, handing it over without a fuss. Hannibal reads the surname off, “Mr. and Mrs. George, I hope today’s bad experience does not dissuade you from visiting again.”

“Yeah, we’ll see,” Mrs. George chimes in. They both turn away, leaving Hannibal to wonder whether or not it is truly worth going to this couple’s home and butchering them to restock his restaurant. Then, the man turns back around to shoot a glare towards the door to the back, where Will disappeared.

“You should really fire that server.”

This leaves Hannibal inwardly seething. It is rude enough to not tip, when it is common knowledge that a server’s wage depends on it almost completely. It is ruder still, to demand a free meal when the service and meal were perfect. But to demand a man’s livelihood undeservedly… Is utterly unforgiveable.

In the time it takes the man and woman to take the final steps between himself and the door, Hannibal imagines them as four different types of flambés as well as the fatty garnish atop a goat’s cheese tart. Between the two of them, there should be more than enough to create a special appetizer for the coming Saturday.

Will appears silently beside him, shoulders slumped. He heard, of course, the walls in the restaurant are thin.

“Am I fired?” He asks, obviously in the belief that he already knows the answer.

“Why would you be fired, William?” He responds calmly, eyes flicking up to slide around the boy’s quivering lips and wrangling fingers.

“You know—“ He brings his hands up to make quotation marks around his head. “’The customer is always right.’”

He can’t help but quirk his lip upward at how truly convinced Will seems to be that he has lost his job, despite the fact that he did nothing wrong. It’s a bit adorable, really, and Hannibal feels the attachment he possesses towards him grow.

“Not always—and certainly not this time,” Hannibal replies. Then, he leans slightly forward to be more personable, but not enough to frighten off skittish Will. “You are my best waiter, Will. Your job is not in danger.”

Will’s eyes flick up so quickly that Hannibal finds himself taken aback by the abrupt eye contact. The light in the man’s eyes is so bright, so blissful, that Hannibal wonders if any of Will’s previous bosses praised his work.

“Thank you, Dr. Lecter,” Will says. He smiles then, a bit of a blush spreading across his cheeks in a way that suits him all too well. Then, he turns on his heel to take the orders of a group of newly seated guests.

He changes his mind. The Georges would function better for a more private meal.

And he knows just the waiter he’d like to share it with. 

**Author's Note:**

> luvkurai.tumblr.com


End file.
